Carter’s expression didn’t waver. He spoke with smug confidence.
“You’re just a broke nobody with no family to back you up. But Ruby? She’s been a star since high school. Everyone adores her, and I’ll make sure she gets everything she wants.
“Didn’t you know? Her parents are both teachers. They’re good, respectable people. She’s better than you in every way, by a mile.”
The man I had dated since college—the one I once loved—was now using the cruelest words to tear me down.
He only knew that I came from a single-parent household and had moved out after a falling-out with my mom.
But what he didn’t know was that my mother was the head of the Merika region for a multinational corporation.
And when my father passed away, he left us an inheritance worth nine figures.
The truth was, if I hadn’t chosen to stay here to escape inheriting the family business, I would have been someone Carter could never reach in his entire lifetime.
Seeing my silence, Carter thought his words had hit their mark. A cold smirk twisted his lips as he pressed on.
“Some people are born princesses, while others—no matter how hard they try—are destined to be nothing more than servants kept in the shadows.
“If I were you, I’d pack up, leave quietly, and hand everything here over to Ruby.
“What are you waiting for? Get on social media and publicly apologize to her. Right now. Or don’t blame me for what happens next—”
Before he could finish, I raised my hand and slapped him hard.
The crack of my palm echoed through the room. Carter’s head snapped to the side, his face burning red from the blow.
His eyes went wide, bloodshot with shock and rage.
“Vera Mason,” he growled, his voice tight with fury, “Did you just hit me?”
Ruby screamed and jumped back, fumbling for her phone to record the scene.
But I was faster. I slapped the phone out of her hand, sending it clattering to the floor. Then, with all my strength, I swung my suitcase and slammed it into both of them, knocking them aside.
I snapped. I let every ounce of my anger explode. I grabbed anything and everything within reach and hurled it. Plates shattered, books hit the walls, glass broke into splinters. I didn’t care.
“You want my things so badly?” I shouted, my voice shaking with rage. “Fine—take them all!”
The room was a complete wreck, shattered pieces of my belongings scattered everywhere.
Without a second glance, I pulled the door open and strode out of the tiny apartment I had called home for the past three years.
*
The first thing I did was call my mom.
It had been years since we last spoke, but the second my call connected, she answered.
And at that moment, I broke. Tears streamed down my face, uncontrollable and raw.
In my past life, from the day I stormed out after college to the day I died, I never spoke to her again. I couldn’t imagine how it must have shattered her when she heard about my death.
But this time, I wasn’t going to waste another second.
I would be the spoiled little daughter she always wanted me to be.
“Come home, sweetheart. Just come home.”
Her voice trembled with emotion. She kept repeating over and over, as if holding me through the phone.
Soon, I was on a flight back to Haven State.
Before boarding, I glanced at social media and saw that Ruby had already posted another fake, attention-seeking update.
“Hey everyone, I’m taking a break from writing for a bit. Everything that’s happened recently has been a lot to handle. Vera Mason is a senior I’ve always looked up to, and I just need some time to clear my head.”
Right on cue, my former editor, Lily Fay, the same one who used to act like she had my back, jumped in to share Ruby’s post.
“Let’s all give Ruby some space to rest so she can return with even better stories! Also, exciting news—we’ll be hosting a fan meet-and-greet with Ruby next month in Haven State. Can’t wait to see you there!”
It was crystal clear that they were grooming Ruby to be their next viral, money-making star.
I sighed, powered off my phone, and closed my eyes, drifting into sleep.
When I got off the plane, my mom was already there, waiting for me in a Rolls-Royce with a driver and bodyguards.
She told me she had heard everything and was already pulling strings—bringing in a PR team and contacting lawyers to press charges.
“We’ll see this through to the end,” she said firmly. “No one lays a hand on my baby girl and gets away with it.”
When I lay in my mother’s arms, she gently rubbed my back, her chin resting softly on my forehead.
The car was stocked with an array of gourmet dishes and my favorite drinks from the past—things she had started preparing the moment she got my call, afraid I would be hungry.
I hugged her tightly.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I said with a smile. “There’s no need for all this trouble.
“Soon enough,” I added, my voice cold with certainty, “the real plagiarist will get exactly what they deserve.”
*
Moving back into our family’s mansion felt amazing.
No more dragging myself out of bed to shop for groceries or cook three meals a day. No more scrubbing laundry.
My bank account, packed with zeros, was a bottomless well of wealth. I could spend endlessly without a single worry about rent or bills.
My mom even set up a private study just for me—complete with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a top-of-the-line computer, and everything I’d need to pursue whatever I wanted.
Every morning, I would wake up early, basking in the sunlight by the floor-to-ceiling windows, doing yoga and pampering myself with skincare treatments.
At noon, I would enjoy a lavish, full-course meal.
Afternoons were for shopping sprees, sipping afternoon tea, and taking lessons in horseback riding, yoga, and golf.
In the evenings, I would unwind with a glass of red wine, soaking in a spacious, marble bathtub while a sound therapist, personally hired by my mom, lulled me to sleep with calming melodies.
My physical health and mental well-being skyrocketed. I felt stronger, sharper, and more radiant than ever before.
But while my life soared, trouble was brewing for Ruby.
With her long silence and no updates, the internet started buzzing with discontent.
Doubts and criticism flooded in:
“Can Ruby Quinn even write, or was her success all fake?”
“Could Vera Mason have been telling the truth all along?”
“No way a serious author would disappear this long at their peak. What a joke.”
“Is she playing us for fools? Refund us already!”
Ruby started to panic. Her appearances on social media became more and more frequent.
I knew her well. She was the type who coasted through life on her pretty face and men’s wallets.
Actual talent? Nonexistent.
Getting her to write a few sentences was harder than pulling teeth.
And this story? It was ripped from my real-life experiences—about a secret, one-sided crush on a senior.
Even if Carter coached her, he could only feed her bits and pieces from my past. He didn’t live my story. He couldn’t recreate the soul of it.
Still, buckling under the pressure, Ruby gritted her teeth and under Carter’s “guidance”, she managed to churn out a single chapter.
The result? A disaster.
The views plummeted, and the comments section was a war zone.
Criticism poured in so fast and so brutally that she deleted the chapter in a panic.
Then came the pity play.
She took to social media, sobbing about her health.
“Sorry, everyone. I’ve been seriously ill and had to undergo surgery. I wanted to write, but I’ve been too weak. Please understand my situation.”
But she didn’t stop there. She made a grand promise—vowing to deliver a masterpiece at her upcoming in-person fan meet-and-greet.
That day, I was leisurely browsing through Hermès, debating which handbag would pair best with my new outfit.
Suddenly, a message popped up on my phone. It was from my former editor, Lily.
“Vera, I noticed your IP address shows you’re in Haven State. I’m here on a business trip. Let’s meet. I think... maybe I misunderstood you.”
My heart thudded.
*
I thought this meeting would finally clear my name.
But to my surprise, Lily wasn’t here to apologize, she was here to convince me to finish Ruby’s manuscript.
At the cafe, her eyes swept over my outfit—Chanel’s latest collection. A smug, condescending smirk tugged at her lips.
“Name your price, Vera,” she said smoothly, her voice laced with disdain. “I know your financial situation isn’t great. So, how much will it take for you to pick up the pen and finish the book?”
She leaned back, her tone turning cold and businesslike.
“Ruby is our site’s biggest cash cow now. She’s already pulled in massive profits. The company will do whatever it takes to keep her on top.”
